


don't miss this train

by asami



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, band au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 10:31:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8282674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asami/pseuds/asami
Summary: Seijou is an up-and-coming indie band about to go on tour. But when one of Oikawa's unreleased solo albums is leaked, Iwaizumi learns more about himself than he expected.





	

“Again,” said Oikawa.

Mattsun moaned.

“We must have played this song a million times already,” he said. “Let’s just say it’s not working, and move on.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “People coming to the tour aren’t going to be expecting our new songs to sound perfect anyways.” He leaned away from his drumset, tilting the stool back. While there was a time and place for rehearsals and practising (as Seijou did, in the evening, four times a week), their tour would begin a few days. Really, they should have been packing.

“I must have edited it - changed it - played around with the chords a million times,” said Oikawa, frowning. He fidgeted, moving the microphone from hand to hand. “It’s not the song - it’s us. It doesn’t sound like what I imagined it would sound. We’re out of balance.”

“We’re playing exactly like we’ve played before,” said Iwaizumi. “And we’re playing our old songs just fine.”

“I want to get it right,” said Oikawa.

“Go suck on a cough drop,” said Iwaizumi.

“Not that I mind playing for hours,” said Makki, “but Oikawa is clearly distracted.”

“That’s right,” said Mattsun. “Distracted.”

“Well, any suggestions?” said Oikawa. He stroked his chin, deep in thought.

“Put away these new songs for now, and come back later. With fresh eyes.” Iwaizumi wanted to say more, but he kept his mouth shut. This wasn’t the right time for it.

“Fresh eyes?”

“Do you really think we’re going to find a new way to play it today? You look exhausted.” The circles under Oikawa’s eyes were obvious to Iwaizumi.

“You’re right,” said Oikawa. “Alright - class dismissed!”

Mattsun and Makki packed and left; Iwaizumi worked slower than usual. He instinctively felt that it would be better for him to talk to Oikawa alone. Mattsun and Makki could be merciless in their teasing.

Iwaizumi was torn between approaching the subject delicately, or swatting Oikawa with something.

“What are you standing around for?” asked Oikawa, sing-song voice. Iwaizumi’s phone was heavy in his pocket; he took it out and flicked through several screens before he found what he wanted.

 _“Unreleased Oikawa Tooru Album Found in a Dumpster,”_ he read. _“In one of the more bizarre stories of the year, an anonymous Internet poster has claimed to have found one Oikawa’s albums in the dumpster, apparently written and produced 3 years ago, before he started the band Seijou. This album, found in perfect condition_ …”

Iwaizumi stopped. He folded his arms across his chest, and fixed Oikawa with a steely glare.

“Ah!” said Oikawa.

“Ah?”

“Ah.” Oikawa smiled. “ _That_.”

“That?”

“That.”

“Let’s stop this little sitcom routine,” said Iwaizumi. “Are you even going to say anything about this, or not?”

“Why, Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa. “You sound like a reporter, interrogating me like this. Or maybe a detective! You missed your calling. You’re wasting your time playing the drums for - er - ‘a small-time band like Seijou.’” Iwaizumi could tell that he had been trying to imitate Ushijima’s voice in the last sentence.

“You’re not answering me.”

“Or maybe a therapist,” said Oikawa. “You’ve uncovered it all, obviously.”

“I get it,” said Iwaizumi. “It’s something embarrassing. Like a bunch of super sappy love notes to an ex.”

Oikawa scoffed.

“Or maybe it's a bunch of sad ballads. 3 years ago, that was high school -”

Oikawa held up his hand. “Thinking up all these terrible things! It's a good thing you're not writing our songs. Anyways, do you plan on listening to the album?”

“Is this your weird way of getting a bunch of media attention?”

“If you make me scoff again today, I think I'm going to need medical attention. And, no - of course not. I must have a stalker living in my old dumpster. But are you going to listen to it?”

“Do you want me to?”

It was tempting - there was a link to it in the article Iwaizumi had found.

“It’s - your - choice,” said Oikawa.

 

* * *

 

Actually, Iwaizumi hadn’t been offended when Ushijima had called Seijou a small-time band. It was true. If it hadn’t been a small-time band, then they would have been able to afford a better tour van than this - cramped and smelling like gas and something stale.

Makki had once asked Oikawa if they could upgrade to a better van. Oikawa had adjusted his glasses and refused.

“One day,” he had said, “we’ll become rich and famous, but until then, we’re stuck in here.”

Budgeting was another thing that Oikawa took seriously, Iwaizumi discovered. Until they reached a certain level of success, they would travel to their concerts in a van that should have been condemned a long time ago.

Seijou occupied a strange spot in the world, Iwaizumi thought. It could be called famous, if you wanted to be loose with your words. Famous - among certain people. Their first album _had_ reached number 1 on the Japanese college charts, which meant that the only member people recognized was Oikawa, and that they had part-time jobs that paid for rent.

They had signed with a local label from Miyagi shortly after high school. And it had worked out for them. Iwaizumi had never thought about it. Someday, he realized, he would most likely have to put the band away, and move onto something concrete, but for now -

Oikawa was asleep. Dead to the world. He always did this - stayed up, keeping the lights on for too long. Iwaizumi pushed his head away.

“So,” said Mattsun. “You’ve listened to his dumpster album, right?” He had been driving the van for the whole day. The scenery had become dull, unvaried.

“No,” said Iwaizumi.

“Seriously?” said Makki, turning around. He sat in the front seat, beside Mattsun. “Oikawa told us he didn’t care if we listened or not, in that snooty way he does sometimes -”

“So I listened to it as soon as I could -” said Mattsun.

“He put it on while peeling pomegranates -” said Makki.

“And it is _something_.”

“A treasure, really.”

“It’s a good thing he’s in this band instead of being a solo singer.”

“I never knew he could whine so much,” said Makki. “I mean, I knew he could, but he sure was shameless about it, wasn’t he?”

“Can he hear you guys?” asked Iwaizumi. He flicked his fingers towards Oikawa’s face. He didn’t move.

“It’s alright,” said Mattsun. “We told all of this to his face afterwards, anyways.”

“I think he’d be more offended if we tried to turn this drive into a therapy session,” said Makki.

“You’re making this album sound like the most depressing thing in the world,” said Iwaizumi.

“It is depressing, but not in the way that you’d think,” said Makki.

Iwaizumi was silent, then: “I don’t think he’d want me to listen to it.”

“You’re being all noble,” said Mattsun, laughing. “But we’re in a bit of an awkward position, don’t you think?”

“How do you mean?”

“What he means,” said Makki, “is that we’re part of the band. People’ll be asking what we thought of it. We’re not exactly famous, so it’s not likely we have paparazzi begging us to know what we thought of it. But we can’t just ignore it.”

“It’s like trying to avoid the spoilers for a movie you really want to see,” said Mattsun.

“I can put it on right now,” said Makki.

“No,” said Iwaizumi. “I mean, Oikawa needs to sleep as much as he can.”

Makki shrugged.

Iwaizumi spent the next half hour in silence. He was struck by how uncomfortable the van seemed to be, more so than usual - the air was stale and the sun shone right in his eyes in the most uncomfortable way and his legs were cramped. All he could think about was standing up.

“Time to take a piss,” said Mattsun. He parked in front of a service area. A small, dingy-looking place.

Iwaizumi tossed his phone to the pocket in his sweatpants, and jumped out of the van. Time to stretch - walk around - buy an ice-cream. He felt satisfied as he brought his arms above his head, stretching them towards the sun. Oikawa could sleep. To hell with him.

He took his phone out of his pocket and played with it idly as he walked towards the building. Sliding the menu down, he realized there was wi-fi - something rare, and appreciated when you were so far away from civilization.

And then he realized.

Iwaizumi slid into an empty cafeteria chair, and googled _oikawa tooru dumpster album_. There were links to news articles, forums, and something that looked like a download link from a Russian website. He clicked the link to one of the forums. It looked like a website devoted to indie music, with an old-fashioned layout, and its users distinguishing themselves with brightly coloured avatars.

_i sympathize with tooru but i’d still really like to discuss it. it doesn’t sound like anything he’s released before. amateur as fuck. but endearing._

_referring to him by his first name? jesus christ_

_i looooooooooooooooved it. yeah, it’s amateur but that’s why it’s good? like the music is pretty simple and the lyrics are like a high schooler’s love notes - who the fuck was he so in love it? - but like. it’s reached my emotions. it’s touched my soul._

_yesssssssssss_

_man if i were oikawa i’d be embarrassed to have people listen to it, even if it were a masterpiece. shouldn’t we be respecting his privacy? he threw it into the dumpster for a reason._

_yea it’s like reading a friend’s diary_

_no it’s like reading a stranger’s diary. completely different._

Iwaizumi frowned, and clicked back to the Russian website. He set the album to download. A vending machine caught his eyes as he looked up, reminding him of the coins clattering about in his wallet. He bought two chocolate bars - one for Oikawa.

A feeling of restlessness gripped him. Why? He looked around - the service area was almost empty, tables sparsely dotted with bored strangers. No one was paying attention to him. Iwaizumi was alone, with nothing to occupy his mind. There was a faded poster in the corner. It said, _are you being honest with yourself?_

He looked at his phone, and went back to the thread he had been reading.

_it’s ok. i thought it was kind of cheesy._

_it doesn’t matter what any of you guys think. IT’S AN INVASION OF PRIVACY. the record label clearly asked the discoveree not to share it, and they did anyways._

_you guys are listening to something he didn’t mean for us to listen to._

The download had finished.

The album was about half an hour long, and Iwaizumi spent his time listening to it with his earbuds on. Oikawa continued to sleep, Mattsun drove in silence, and Makki played a game on his phone.

Listening to the album, Iwaizumi realized something. One, that these songs were about some. A certain someone. Someone Oikawa didn’t refer to by name. Two, that Oikawa must have been in love with this certain someone. Three, that this someone was an idiot who must not have been able to observe for shit -

Since when had Oikawa bothered with unrequited love?

Iwaizumi wondered who it could have been. 3 years ago - that had been their last year of high school. Maybe it had been him. He frowned at his assumption, but he couldn’t think of who else it could have been, unless Oikawa had pined for a stranger. He doubted it. They had done everything together in high school, and Iwaizumi had to wonder how Oikawa had had time to write and produce these songs without him finding out about them.

He wondered what he should say. _“Oikawa, I know you’re deeply in love with me, and we need to talk.”_ And then, _“I don’t feel that way about you.”_ Or, _“I have been pining for you since we were in kindergarten. My love, as we take this journey, will you do me the honour of accepting this engagement ring?”_

Who talked like that?

Did it even matter if Iwaizumi could figure out his emotions, when, realistically, Oikawa had fallen out of love with him - if it had been him in the first place - ages ago? It wasn't as if either of them had stayed celibate after high school. Oikawa had dated, and Iwaizumi had too - relationships that fizzled away without making an impact on him.

Iwaizumi would clobber whoever dug that CD out of the garbage if he ever saw them.

Oikawa snored, unusually loud this time. It startled Iwaizumi.

“What are you doing, Iwa-chan?” asked Oikawa. He had woken up. Startled by his own snoring, probably. Iwaizumi hastily shut his phone screen off - why had the album come with _cover art_ \- and took off his earbuds.

“Nothing,” said Iwaizumi. Liar, liar. “Our trip’s almost done.”

Oikawa smiled and nodded. “Awesome. We’ll be great. Even if our tickets didn’t sell out or anything. Baby steps, right?”

“Are you trying to cheer me up?”

“You look _distinctly_ sad about something,” said Oikawa. “Are the rigours of travel getting to you? It must be so difficult sitting around and doing nothing for a few hours. Are you cut out for the band life? It’ll be a while until we can afford first class tickets on a private jet.”

“You know you’re the one who’s always complaining,” said Iwaizumi.

“And that’s why I fall asleep during trips and save everyone a lot of trouble,” said Oikawa, leaning back into his seat with exaggerated casualness.

“Don’t look so smug,” said Iwaizumi. Then - was that guilt that he felt? “Are you going to be playing any of the songs from that album at the concert?”

“No,” said Oikawa, grimacing. “I’d rather pretend they hadn’t seen the light of day. And I don’t want Seijou playing back-up for any of these songs.”

“Why not?” asked Iwaizumi. He hoped he sounded casual.

“It’d be weird,” said Oikawa.

“Shit,” said Mattsun. “Bigger problem here.”

They were parked by the side of the road - Iwaizumi hadn’t noticed while he had been talking. Trees enveloped the path.

“Why did you stop?” he asked.

“I didn’t stop,” said Mattsun. “The car did. It’s not starting.”

Iwaizumi could hear a loud, grating noise. Oikawa turned to him, staring.

“What?” said Iwaizumi. “I didn’t do it.”

“Go and put on your mechanic overalls and fix it.”

“Oikawa,” he said, “I don’t know anything about fixing cars. I take the subway everywhere.” He spoke slowly, emphasizing each word.

“It’s an important life skill!”

“None of you know either!”

“I can’t believe I’m the only adult who knows how to drive,” said Mattsun, shaking his head. “I’m in a band with a bunch of manchildren.”

“You can drive, but you can’t fix an engine, or whatever’s wrong with the van,” said Makki. “So that doesn’t count for much, either.”

Iwaizumi turned to Oikawa, glaring. “Haven’t you spent a bunch of money on repairing this awful van?”

“I have,” Oikawa wailed. “I can’t believe it would betray me like this. I got it tuned up, like, a year ago.”

“Guys,” said Makki. “We can just call a tow truck.”

Iwaizumi glanced at his phone. “I don’t have a signal here. Where are we, anyways?”

“Middle of nowhere,” said Oikawa.

The rest of the group checked their phones - no signal.

“This is how horror movies begin,” said Oikawa. “We’re doomed. Totally doomed.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” said Iwaizumi. An idea formed in his head. He couldn’t sit around and do nothing. “I’ll hitchhike to civilization and call a tow truck from there. And tell our venue we’ll have to cancel, if it comes to that. It’s a pain, but -”

He held out his hands, as if to say, _that’s life_.

“You’re going alone?” asked Makki.

“He can’t do that - he’ll get murdered, probably,” said Oikawa. “I’ll have to go with him. For moral support. And to protect him.”

“Who’s protecting who?”

Mattsun handed him a map, and circled a spot on the road. “That’s where we are, most likely. Show it to the tow truck people. The directions aren’t exact, but they’ll spot our van.” The teal paint could be spotted anywhere.

“We’ll stay here and guard the van,” said Makki.

“Let’s go,” said Iwaizumi. Oikawa held his hand to his forehead mockingly - an aye-aye captain salute.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi sat on the ground, and took out a sandwich bag from his backpack. He bit into the mayo sandwich slowly, and recoiled from the bite. It had been difficult making edible food on the road.

“Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, breaking the silence. “I thought someone would have picked us up by now. I would have thought that there’d be someone who’d love to have us.”

“We’re not that famous,” said Iwaizumi. But he was right. It wasn’t like the movies, where people stuck out their thumb and attracted gracious drivers like magnets.

They had walked away from the van, in a fit of boredom. Realistically, they were about twenty minutes away from it, but it felt like they had walked forever. And Iwaizumi was beginning to get cold, as the evening air set it. He was wearing an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt whose original colour had faded away. Iwaizumi touched the bandage on his face, from when he had nicked his face while trying to shave in a service area bathroom a day ago. Come to think of it, he was probably scaring drivers away. He could have at least worn jeans.

Oikawa looked good, Iwaizumi had to admit. His nap had perked up his face, and he looked almost decent in his trackpants and t-shirt. Whereas Iwaizumi looked like he had given up, Oikawa simply looked like an athletic man on the way to the gym. Iwaizumi cursed him - who looked good at a time like this?

“We have to ask ourselves,” continued Oikawa, “would I want to pick myself up? I’d pick myself up. I definitely would. But would you pick yourself up? You look like a suspicious old guy.”

Iwaizumi wondered if Oikawa had read his mind. “I wouldn’t pick you up.”

“Now you’re just being contrary for the sake of being contrary,” said Oikawa, pouting. “And you just admitted you wouldn’t pick yourself up.”

Iwaizumi ignored him. “Want some food?”

“I don’t want your old mayo sandwich.” Oikawa wrinkled his nose.

“More for - stand up, there’s a car coming.”

Iwaizumi straightened his back. He hoped that they could still be seen in the evening dark. The car was distant; he could see it getting larger and clearer as the seconds passed. Grey, nondescript, probably the type someone professional would drive. It stopped right beside them.

“Finally,” said Oikawa. “Let me go first - I can talk to them.” Iwaizumi nodded in agreement. They walked over the driver’s door.

“Hello, kind stranger,” said Oikawa, as the window rolled down.

The driver was Ushijima. Iwaizumi saw Oikawa tense up so quickly that he almost missed it.

“This is a funny coincidence,” said Oikawa. He barely concealed the hostility that leaked from his voice. Iwaizumi elbowed him. Oikawa may have had a grudge that had begun before high school, a grudge that involved years of frustration and barely-concealed anger on his part, a grudge that meant Oikawa turned into a child whenever he saw Ushijima, but Iwaizumi was disinclined towards spending the night camping besides the road. Oikawa would just have to grow up.

“Are you two hitch-hiking?”

Iwaizumi wondered how the pair of them looked from Ushijima’s perspective.

“Things happened. You must have seen the tour van passing by here,” said Iwaizumi.

“It broke down?” asked Ushijima.

“Obviously,” said Oikawa. Iwaizumi elbowed him again, hoping that Ushijima didn’t see him.

“We just need to get to town and somewhere with cell service so we can call a tow truck,” said Iwaizumi. “It’s on the way, so -”

Ushijima nodded. “I understand. Get in.”

Oikawa pulled his face into a grimace. As he entered the car, Iwaizumi whispered, “you’ll just have to suffer in silence.” He quickly showed Ushijima where they wanted to go on the map.

Iwaizumi wondered how his life had reached this point - the tension in the car was palpable. “So,” he said. “How’s life been treating you?”

Iwaizumi could Ushijima’s reflection in the rear-view mirror from the backseat. Ushijima nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “It’s been very rewarding. I scarcely need to remind you that Shiratorizawa’s music department is top-notch.”

“Top-notch!” said Oikawa.

“It offers a lot of good opportunities for anyone who wants to become a concert player.”

Oikawa could have become a concert player. This was a fact. Iwaizumi knew it better than anyone. He was able to play a variety of instruments but prefered his piano and guitar. Hell, he could have even become a conductor - Iwaizumi thought he would have been good at _that_. Instead, he was the lead singer and songwriter for Seijou.

Life was funny, sometimes.

“And I don’t think any of my fellow classmates have ever had to travel like this.” Was that a joke from Ushijima?

“Because they stay in the same spot forever,” said Oikawa. “At least this offers a tiny bit of _freedom_. Why are you even here?”

“I think I’d exchange my freedom if it meant I didn’t have to sleep in that van,” said Iwaizumi. This time, Oikawa punched him - gently - in the upper arm.

“You’re supposed to be supporting me,” he whispered, voice low. Iwaizumi pinched him.

“Stop manhandling each other,” said Ushijima. “I’m just visiting family.”

“You're right, Ushiwaka,” said Oikawa. “This has been a stressful day and from now on I'll behave like a gentleman. Wouldn't you like some band merch, courtesy of me?”

“No. You could start by not calling me that.”

“Are you sure? I think it’ll go up in value in the near future.”

Iwaizumi made a mental note to pay for Ushijima’s gas and thank him profusely when Oikawa wasn’t looking. Spending too much time with an irritated Oikawa could be fatal to someone who wasn’t as used to it as he was.

“I listened to the album,” said Ushiwaka.

“What album?” asked Oikawa, feigning innocence.

“The one that got leaked.” Ushijima was silent for a moment, as if weighing his words. “It was admirably produced. Its simplicity spoke for itself.”

High praise from him, thought Iwaizumi. Oikawa simply sniffed.

They spent the rest of the drive in silence. Iwaizumi thought he had spent too much time in silence today; he wanted to reach for the radio and turn some music on, with or without Ushijima’s permission.

“I can drop you off at the gas station,” said Ushijima, a few minutes later.

“Sounds good,” said Iwaizumi. The gas station would most likely have wi-fi, or a phonebook. They’d be able to call a tow truck. They’d be playing tomorrow night - Iwaizumi wondered if they’d be ready for it. He felt tired all of a sudden.

Ushijima parked in the back. The gas station was, from what Iwaizumi could tell, in the middle of the city. Ushijima had driven much further than the rules of politeness demanded - he could have easily dropped them off at a gas station at the outskirts.

They stepped out. Iwaizumi looked through his pocket to find some cash, the coins jingling against each other. He gave Ushijima about 2000 yen, and lifted his eyebrows when he gave him some change back.

Oikawa had already taken out his phone, and was already calling someone - a tow truck company, by the sounds of it. He sounded energetic, too enthusiastic for someone in this situation, Iwaizumi thought.

“Today has been a weird day,” said Iwaizumi, looking at Ushijima. He wondered why he had decided to take him into his confidence, but continued. “A million surprises just popping out at me today.”

“Touring like this certainly seems like troublesome.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it is.” He smiled.

“Iwa-chan,” said Oikawa, calling out. “I’m done. Are you ready to go?”

“Right,” said Iwaizumi, turning to Oikawa. He glanced at Ushijima. “Thanks for the ride. See you around?”

Ushijima nodded, and retreated into his car.

“Cozying up to the enemy, hmmm?” asked Oikawa.

“Don’t be idiotic.”

“Well, I talked to the tow truck company. And then I talked to Makki and Mattsun.” Oikawa grimaced. “They’ll have to wait a while for the tow truck to show up, so they told us to just check into a hotel for the night. They’ll come by later on.”

“Finally. Running water!”

“You are so boring,” Oikawa said, wrinkling his nose. “Someone else might have suggested having a party and then destroying the room like _rockstars_ and all you care about is shaving or whatever.”

“Shut up,” he said. “After today, I’m glad we can indulge in a 2-star hotel.”

“Don’t act like such a martyr. I heard you complaining, you know,” said Oikawa. “I’m the one who’s been suffering for a whole week. My album leaks, and then I owe Ushiwaka a favour because no one else would stop for us, and you’ve been acting strangely all day.”

“Me? Acting strangely?” Iwaizumi tried to remember if he had behaved any differently than usual, and could find no examples.

“You know. Strange.”

“That reminds me. I bought some chocolate for you.” Iwaizumi dug out the chocolate bars he had forgotten about, and tossed one to Oikawa. Oikawa caught it - he had quick instincts - and stared at him.

“Not that I’m complaining,” said Oikawa. “But you usually buy me milk bread. This is what I meant by _weird_.”

“They don’t have bakeries in the middle of nowhere.”

Oikawa stroked his chin. “And you usually don’t buy me snacks for no reason. I get it, Iwa-chan. I get it. You’re feeling guilty about something. Is it because you got all friendly with my sworn enemy?”

“Don’t be so dramatic! All I did was talk with him a bit. That’s hardly getting friendly.”

“Hmmm,” said Oikawa. He leaned forward. “You listened to my album, didn’t you?”

“We should go find a hotel. Yapping in the middle of a parking lot is weird.”

Oikawa nodded crisply. “I think I understand. Changing the subject - that’s very suspicious. If we were in court, you’d probably be found guilty in a minute.”

“Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi wished - not for the first time - that he had Oikawa’s talent of _understanding_ people. Of knowing what they wanted, what they needed to bring out the best in them, and knowing how to use this knowledge for good. These qualities were why Oikawa was the unofficial leader of Seijou.

It had seemed almost like witchcraft to Iwaizumi, when they were younger. He wished he could just read minds. It seemed too unfair that he had to be straightforward, like an ordinary person.

Ushiwaka - there was someone who had probably never hidden his thoughts a day in his life. An honest man. Think something, and then say it. It seemed to be working for him, even if he hadn’t managed to charm Oikawa into going to Shiratorizawa and studying music.

Iwaizumi remembered the advice he had found and received when he first joined Seijou. _Don’t date bandmates. Don’t date your bandmates’ girlfriends or boyfriends. Being on tour is kind of like getting married - you’ll learn all about their terrible habits. Don’t rock the boat!_

And what with the tour beginning tomorrow - what bad timing. No matter, he would simply have to gather up some gumption, and say something.

Iwaizumi leaned into the bed - one of the two in the room - grateful for the soft mattress under his back. It was so easy to fall into the trap of staring at the ceiling, and mediating over the same subject endlessly. His mind was muddled.

“I’m done,” said Oikawa. His hair was wet after his shower. Before Iwaizumi could stop himself, he began to think - Oikawa looked good. And his voice had sounded terribly inviting, crooning love songs that could make anyone believe that Oikawa was in love with them personally.

It was now or never, Iwaizumi decided.

“Who was that album about?” Iwaizumi asked. Oikawa turned around, a flash of irritation in his face. He pressed his lips together.

“We must both be the most idiotic people in the world,” said Oikawa. “I’d thought you’d figured it out already.” He sat beside Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi stared at him.

“It’s you, it’s you, you idiot. Usually, you’re the one calling me an idiot, but I think the word applies well to you right now, doesn’t it?”

“Ah.”

“Don’t you have something to say?” Oikawa fixed him with a piercing glare. Iwaizumi scowled back.

“You ass,” said Iwaizumi. “You should have told me earlier. Instead of -”

“The band,” said Oikawa.

“What?”

“The _band_. Better bands than ours have had issues when two people started dating.”

“That’s what I was worried about.”

They were silent. Iwaizumi could hear the clock on the table next to the bed, ticking. It almost seemed to be echoing.

“What do we do now?” asked Oikawa.

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I think,” he said, speaking slowly, “we’re both acting like a pair of high school students. Worrying about spin-the-bottle or something stupid like that.”

“It’s very unromantic,” said Oikawa, nodding.

“It’s stupid.”

“I’ll put out a full-page ad the next time I fall for someone.”

“You’ll scare them off.”

“If I couldn’t scare you off after touring with you for ages -” Oikawa shrugged.

“We should have figured this out earlier,” said Iwaizumi. “Go blow-dry your hair - you’ll catch a cold.”

“Are you seriously scolding me right now?”

Iwaizumi wanted to laugh. Time to rock the boat, he thought.

He leaned forward to kiss Oikawa. His lips were wet, cold against his, waterdrops dripping from his hair. It should have been unpleasant, but it wasn’t. Oikawa began to trace circles idly in the back of his neck, and for the first time in a long time, Iwaizumi felt content.

 

* * *

 

Iwaizumi could hear Oikawa humming right before the show.

The van was stuck at the mechanic’s, and they had to pay someone else to transport their equipment to the venue, and Makki and Mattsun had to pay for another hotel room - a strain on their budget, if there had ever been one.

“I have an idea,” said Oikawa.

Iwaizumi looked up from his drums. He had been playing idly, warming up. Mattsun continued to twirl his pencil in the air.

“Let’s just go over one of the new songs again,” said Oikawa. He picked up the guitar. The sound of his foot tapping in place jolted Iwaizumi into action.

Drumsticks ready and engaged, he began -

It flowed. He was barely conscious of anything else. When the song ended, he felt a curious sense of satisfaction.

“That was perfect,” said Oikawa.

“Did you change any part of the song?” asked Makki.

“No,” said Oikawa, looking at Iwaizumi. “Nothing.”

Iwaizumi grinned back.

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from [lianne la havas - midnight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Uq1lmR8oTE)
> 
> this was roughly inspired by someone finding an unreleased sufjan stevens album from the 1990s in the dumpster. 
> 
> i don't know very much about playing music, so i hope this wasn't too inaccurate! also, i like ushiwaka a lot, so i hope he came off well here.
> 
> i'd love to hear your thoughts! thank you for reading.


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